


Plenty of Time

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Body Worship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cold, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is cold. Steve warms him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plenty of Time

Steve leaned in the doorway of Bucky’s makeshift bedroom. It had been his gym, a humble set- up in the basement of his new (and deeply resented) house in Washington DC. The gym was an odd room, crude yet charming improvisation contrasted with state of the art reinforced equipment, courtesy of Tony Stark and the ‘Chrome Club’ as Natasha had dubbed them. The house was…well a house. Not a home yet, but Steve reckoned he was clouded by a longing for Brooklyn.

Bucky was asleep, sitting upright on the floor with his back propped up against the bed that he had not slept in since the day he had returned. It had stayed completely made and untouched for the first week, despite lot of gentle coaxing from Steve. Bucky seemed more comfortable or at least less anxious sleeping on the floor, or at a push in a chair. Steve made a mental note to take one of the armchairs from the living room down to the basement. Usually, Steve gave Bucky free-reign over what he did and what made him comfortable. But today, the winter that had hit DC like a train had hit the inside of the Rogers-Barnes house just as hard. The floor down there was concrete, so were the walls and the boiler had some real trouble keeping the whole bottom half of the house warm.

“Buck,” Steve whispered. The Soldier tilted his head slightly, but otherwise did not stir.

 

“Bucky wake up, pal,” Steve said a little louder, kneeling on the concrete next to Bucky.

Bucky let the top half of his body lull towards Steve’s voice, sliding to rest his head on the Captain’s lap in comfortable drowsiness. His legs were numb with cold and the awkward position but he was too sleep-fogged to truly care.

“Gotta get up, Buck,” Steve encouraged quietly, running a slow, warming hand over Bucky’s cool cheek.

“It’s freezing down here,” Steve persisted.

Bucky nodded slowly and stretched, arching his back off of the ground and sitting up stiffly, rubbing his eyes roughly until his cheeks glowed red.

“ _I’m_ freezing,” Bucky muttered, his voice thick with sleep and discomfort.

It was a familiar feeling. The numbness in this shins and aching in his tailbone, the persistent cold that stuck in his bones and did not shift for hours.

_“Kneel, Asset,” The handler pushed Bucky sharply to his knees on the cold concrete of the secluded bunker._

_Bucky complied, closing his eyes as his naked body hit the floor. He would be there until his knees bled._

Bucky shook himself from the memory and nuzzled his face into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Mm, Buck,” Steve closed his eyes and rested back against the edge of the bed, “Your nose is cold, stop.”

Bucky blew out a laugh and pressed a kiss into Steve’s neck, parting his lips against the sensitive skin so that his teeth scraped over it gently, making the Captain shiver. The soldier pulled Steve onto his lap, gripping his thighs and running his hands back through smooth, blond hair.

“Warm me up,” Bucky smiled against Steve’s jaw, sliding his hands up his sides and taking his shirt with it., “Please?”

Bucky a pressed a soft chain of kisses up Steve’s chest. The Captain made a quiet, keening sound of content in the back of his throat, pressing his hips down against Bucky’s and letting his head lull back a little. Bucky used the new position, taking his mouth’s attention to Steve’s neck, sucking bruises and letting his breath ghost over the skin until the rocking of Steve’s hips reached an almost involuntary rhythm.

“Hold on tight,” Bucky ordered, the unusual authority in his voice made Steve flush hot red.

The Captain wrapped his arms around the brunet’s neck and gripped tight as he lifted him, holding his thighs around his waist before throwing him loosely onto that all too underused bed and unbuttoning his jeans eagerly.

“Slow down,” Steve sighed, closing his eyes in content, “We’ve got all day.”

Bucky let his motions slow. He remembered their nights together in Brooklyn, even if said memories were hazy, disjointed and purely nocturnal. He would stare at the dark walls of the cellar and let his fevered consciousness take over, turning the dull cerulean of the painted concrete turn into a canvas for those memories that kept him so awake, not because he was scared, but because he did not want to fall asleep and miss them as they passed.

The nights in Brooklyn had been rushed. Gorgeous, but rushed. Poorly timed bursts of poorly handled passion that had built up over days or weeks of hiding from each other’s feelings. Kisses were messy, knocked teeth, scratched backs and unmade sheets. Then silence. Silence when they had to figure out what excuses to make and what lies to tell about why they had been together alone for so long. Now, they had time.

Bucky slid Steve’s jeans to his ankles, letting his fingers graze down his thighs and leave goose bumps in their wake. Steve lifted his hips to let Bucky slide his boxers down too. The Captain breathed a laugh at the small noise of arousal that the brunet made at the sight of him and pulled him forward.

“Kiss me,” Steve whispered, smudging his words against Bucky’s shoulder, “Kiss me properly.”

Bucky obeyed, kissing Steve like he wished he had before the fall. He knew he did not have to, he knew he would never lose Steve again. They did not have to rush.

 

They had time.

 

 


End file.
